


All That I Have

by animasevera



Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animasevera/pseuds/animasevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Leandra's murder, Hawke decides that there is only one way she will let things end for her and Anders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That I Have

She had slain Darkspawn, abominations and dragons in the past, but she scarcely had the strength now to lift her head from her pillow. At her side lay  portrait of her mother, along with a tiny hair pin and a wooden sword.

A knock came to her door.

She did not stir.

There was another knock, this one firmer and louder. “Hawke?”

That voice. Her heart raced at the sound of it, but she still made no move for the door.

“Please, love. Open the door,” Anders pleaded, worry cracking through in his tone. “It’s been days, and I’m worried about you.”

“…It’s not locked.” His arrival gave her the will to speak, but not to move.

The moment he opened the door, he rushed to her side, sitting on the side of the bed and resting his hand on her back. “I’ve hardly been able to stop thinking about you…Justice has been reprimanding me for it.” His eyes wandered over to the portrait, and a soft smile came to his lips. “She was beautiful, and so are you.”

Lysandra rolled over onto her back, staring at the space below the ceiling. “I couldn’t protect her. Just like Bethany…just like Carver.” Her voice was flat and dead, as if she had been made Tranquil.

The healer took her hand into both of his, clutching it firmly; it felt cold. “It’s not your fault.” He slid along the edge of the bed, close enough to her so he could touch her cheek.

“They were everything to me, Anders.” She cast her eyes over to the portrait, along with the other artifacts. “Everything I did in Kirkwall…I did for them. Working as a smuggler, going into the Deep Roads…it was all for their sake.”

He lifted her from the bed and gathered her into his arms, meeting her eyes with his own. “I’m…I’m sorry. I wish there was something else I could say.” With a sigh so heavy it made his shoulders sink, he rested her head against the soft feathers of his coat. “With or without Justice…the worst feeling in the world is watching someone you love suffer without being able to do anything about it.”

She let out a sniff, burying her face further into his shoulder. “I wanted to torture him, Anders.” Though they hung limp at her sides, her fists clenched. “I wanted him to suffer for every single one of those women’s lives he had taken.” There was new steel in her voice, but it was cold. “I wanted to cut him apart, piece by piece, just like he did to those women…just like he did to Mother…no, that still would not be enough.”

Anders remained silent, only looking back at her. His jaw was visibly clenching.

She raised her head and looked at him; the look in his eyes was all she needed to see. In the space of a blink, she could see a flash of blue in his face, and almost instantly felt guilty. “…I’m sorry.”

“…I understand,” said the apostate, resting his hand on her upper arm. “You need to be strong, my love. Stronger than I was. I don’t want to see you turn into me.”

“He took _everything_ from me!” Hawke snapped, shoving Anders away and pushing herself to the edge of the bed. She stared at a single spot on the floor until her vision fogged, sighing until she was breathless. “Maker, I’m so sorry…you don’t deserve to have to deal with me like this.”

He crawled after her, sliding his legs out in front of him when he reached the edge. “But I will.” As he did before, he took her into a warm embrace and stroked the twisted ends of her hair. “I love you, Lys. That’s one thing I know for sure…and I want you to know too.” His arms tightened around her, just enough to support her as she leaned against him. “If it means you’ll be alright, I’ll be glad to deal with any of your pain.”

Lysandra tightened her lips, lowering her head into his chest. No more words passed her lips, and the only sound she made was a soft gasp as tears soaked his robe.

Anders’ frown deepened. “Oh, my darling…” A kiss to the top of her head and the warmth of his arms was all he could offer - no magic could heal sickness of the heart. Even Justice had fallen silent for the moment. “I will be here for you, as long as I live, and beyond. I swear it.” His grip on her became strong and defensive. “…I’ll stare the Maker himself in the eye and spit in it, if that’s what it takes for me to protect you.”

“…Justice?” Lysandra murmured, barely above a whisper as if she did not actually want him to hear.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, drawing a finger through her hair.

“I…” This hesitance was uncharacteristic for her. “I…could I speak to Justice?” She still did not meet his eyes with hers.

He lowered his head, as if in shame, but said nothing. A moment later, he lifted his head to look at her, but his eyes now glowed white and lines of magic branched across his face. He extended a hand toward her, allowing it to come to rest on her heart. **“…The man who slayed your mother is dead, Hawke. Justice has been served.”** His voice was sober, almost empty of emotion, but it weighed heavily between them. The ache in Anders’ heart had permeated him, and their shared melody became a mournful dirge.

“…What should I do, then?” she asked, her voice hollow and weak.

Justice’s jaw squared as he felt the ache in her heart wrapping around his. The sting of Anders’ tears formed at the corners of his own eyes. **“What you desire is not something I can deliver.”** Slowly, he closed the distance between them and gathered her into his arms. **“I…cannot bring your mother back from the Fade, nor can I heal the pain of your loss. I…”** Glowing fingertips pressed into the fabric of Hawke’s robe. His knees had begun to grow too weak to bear this emotional weight. He was accustomed to Anders’ anger, but this sort of grief was not something for which he was prepared. **“I am sorry, Hawke. This…hurts me. In ways I cannot understand, let alone describe. All I can offer is…”** Words broke away before he could seize them, and Anders’ heartache rose through him in a sigh as his tears finally broke free. His arms strengthened around her, and he at last gave in to the weakness of his knees, bringing Hawke down to kneel with him and guiding her head to rest against his chest. Magic-tinged fingers gathered up the fabric of her house coat, pressing into the quivering muscles of her back. **“So long as your heart seeks Justice, I will be here to answer your call.”** Following the guidance of Anders’ senses, he touched his lips to her forehead.

Hawke could stand to hold herself back no more. The moment she was allowed, she broke into heavy sobs that soaked the other mage’s robes. “My father…my sister…nearly Carver…now my mother. Who else will be taken from me next!?” she cried out, grabbing the lapels of his robe and clenching them. “Y-you’re all I have left…”

Just saying those words aloud filled her with the realization of what they meant. At any time, Anders, too, could be torn from her. Already, she was imagining Templars placing chains on him, being forced to watch him be led away to what would inevitably be a slow, painful death. He would probably be sent to Aeonar for the rest of his life, which would no doubt be short as he was left to go mad from starvation and isolation, until Justice, too, was lost forever.

The spirit’s aura flared in response to her song grinding out of tune. He rested his chin against her shoulder, tugging her trembling form back toward him and throwing a shielding spell out around them. His jaw clenched tight against the visions she allowed to bleed through to his awareness. His mortal’s bony, care-worn fingers threaded through her hair, taking in its familiar texture as he pressed his arms against her back in an attempt to envelop her in as many layers of his presence as he could. The anger that would have roused in him ordinarily could not rise above the anguish that sat heavy in Anders’ heart. The only justice he could render was to guard her, to hold on to her with all the power he possessed.

 **“My treasured mortal…”** he began, tucking his chin over her head as his words shook in his vessel’s throat. **“I will _slaughter_ any Templar who attempts to part us.”** Wavering, hissing breaths and a racing heart made him rock in place with her. **“I swear this, Hawke.”** There was a new passion in his voice as he gripped her robe between his fingers. **“On the spires of the Black City, I _swear_ , I _\- we_ \- WILL have justice.” **

She wanted to believe him. Maker, how she wanted to trust every word Justice spoke. The seeds of doubt, however, had taken root in the deepest soil. Fear tainted her song now, of her beloved mage and adored spirit both being ripped away from her by fate’s machinations. She squeezed his waist, burying her face in his robe against where her tears had already soaked. “I don’t care about that…” she confessed, clutching his vessel’s arms. “I…I can’t lose you. I can’t _think_ about losing you.”

The spirit responded with a baleful silence and a shaky gasp that rocked them against each other. He and Anders both knew long ago what their fate might be, to die for the sake of freedom. Hawke’s grief gripped at their heart, binding it tighter than any Circle’s chains. **“…Hawke…”** He formed the shape of her name in his mouth, his throat only closing and gripping the click at the end. **“Please…”** he hissed, bearing his brow against hers as his vessel began to shake with grievous tremors. There was a tone of near desperation in the spirit’s voice as he allowed his shoulders to bow. **“F-forgive me…t-this guilt…this pain…this fear…drowning me…I–”**

Hawke did not let Justice finish his sentence before she fled the room, bounding down the stairs in a frantic effort to free him from her influence. Tears continued to stream from her eyes, and her breath was taken by strangled sobs until she collapsed, out of stamina, on the floor.  

“ **HAWKE!”** Justice could still be heard shouting upstairs. He grabbed at the air where she used to be, only to find just that - empty air. He cried out Hawke’s name again, traces of Anders’ voice meshed in. **“Hawke, do not leave me!”** His tone had progressed to one of panic as he struggled to lift his vessel to his feet under the strain of Hawke’s emotions flooding into him.

The spirit’s frantic calling tore like hooks through Hawke’s already shattered heart. Going up the stairs, however, was beyond the capabilities of her drained body and will. All she could do was project a song to call him through her anguish. “J-Justice…” she said aloud, barely able to raise her voice. “I-I’m downstairs.”

Justice froze, turning his head in the direction the voice came from. Just the whisper of her words was enough to lead him along. With careful, measured steps, he made his way from the bedroom to the hall, then to the stairs. Once again, he called out for her. **“Hawke!”**

“Yes, love…” Lysandra responded, giving him a louder, sharper sound to follow. By now, she had rolled onto her back and was staring at the ceiling.

First one stair, then the next, gripping the banister for dear life - this was how Justice descended the stairs every time. At last, he felt his vessel’s feet touch solid flooring below. He next traced the memories of her voice, at last coming to her side. Blind, anxious groping on the floor finally led him to her hand, which he clutched as if even loosing his grip would mean he would lose her to the shadows.

She pulled him in with what little strength she had, offering him a weak, but still protective, embrace. Her song now told of guilt, for fleeing from him with no word. “I’m so sorry, Justice, I…I just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t hurt you. Y-you…don’t deserve to have to deal with this. You–”

 **“…Cease this talk, Hawke,”** Justice commanded, at last having regained a shaky calm, as he placed his hand over her chest, where he felt her pulse. **“This injustice you have suffered…it aches inside me. Tight and sharp…”** He sought out the thumping of his vessel’s heart with his other hand. **“…Like thorns of briars wrapping around this mortal’s heart.”**

“I’m sorry–”

 **“You have not wronged me,”** Justice cut her apology off with a firm declaration, but there was a long silence after. He gathered her in his arms once more, yielding to Anders’ desire to hold her. A deep, groaning breath filled his vessel’s lungs, sharpening his nerves. Finally, words came to him once more. **“The true wrong here is that there is no way for me to give you the justice you so deeply thirst for. Your mother and her killer lie dead…but your heart still trembles with pain. All I can offer…”** Words escaped his expression, leaving him to shroud Hawke in his arms and aura and rest his chin against the top of her head. The Fade slowly crackled across his skin, and Anders’ healing mana coursed just under it. **“If I cannot bring you the justice your heart seeks…I will give myself to you.”**

Hawke’s eyes widened to full whites, and she pushed back just enough to look up at the spirit. “W-what?”

Justice’s chest swelled with a heavy, grumbling breath as he prepared his words. **“It is Justice you desire…but not an act. I will thus make your longing a mortal reality.”** He took her into another, firm embrace, leaning her back but holding her steady. **“Justice, wrapped in mortal flesh, with mortal hands to guard you.”** He searched out her hands, clasping them between his own. **“Mortal arms, to hold you,”** he went on, taking her in against his vessel’s chest. **“…And mortal lips, to speak to you in words you can hear.”**

The familiar sting of tears glazed Hawke’s eyes, and she smothered the beginnings of a soft sob into his robes. Her song became a melody unchained, bursting and blooming against Justice’s presence. She hugged him closer still, nearly pouring mixed grief and gratitude into him.

Willingly, the spirit took to bearing Hawke’s emotions, despite the fact that they ripped through him. Somehow, there was a sliver of fulfillment of his virtue to be found scattered in the clouds of darkness around them. He touched his lips to the top of her head, hovering there to take in the familiar scent of her hair. **“You sacrifice so much of your own being,”** he pointed out, his voice cracking with tangible concern. **“You let your heart break to pieces for others. For this city, for your companions, for my vessel, for our cause…for _me._ ”** A hand went looking for hers again, interlacing every finger between them. **“You yearn so deeply to see justice done in this mortal world, with or without me guiding you.”** He followed the paths of Anders’ memory, rubbing her back in slow, meandering circles that let him feel her trembling muscles. **“It is not justice for you to suffer so, Hawke. You…”**

Anders nearly surged back to the surface, just enough to bring tears to their eyes again. **“…You deserve praise and glory for your deeds,”** Justice continued, cupping her shoulders. **“You have done so many worthy things in my name, even before you knew a name to call me.”** He went silent for a time, listening carefully to the feeling of her song. **“I know you fear losing us, my vessel and I.”**

Hawke cried out at the very thought, nearly clinging to the spirit’s mortal vessel. “If I lose you…I lose _everything._ ” She threw her hands up at the walls of her room. “I don’t care about all this…I don’t care about being the Champion…I just want…” Her words dissolved into nearly hysterical sobbing into his chest.

He lowered his head so his chin slid back over the top of hers. **“Even if my vessel is gone in the flesh, your heart will still hold us in the–”**

“I DON’T CARE!” Hawke finally screamed out, shoving the spirit away. “I want you here in the flesh! I can’t have someone else just become a dream!” Her song rang further out of tune, twisting and warping under her fragmenting stability. “I’m /sick/ of everyone I love being picked off, just turned into dreams and nothing but!” She rose to her feet with trembling knees, turning as if to leave.

 **“Hawke, NO!”** Justice scrambled to his vessel’s own feet and staggered between Hawke and the immediate exits, his steps rendered clumsy by the trembling of fear of her leaving again. **“Do not–”** His throat swelled with a gulp, and he let out a wheezing sigh. **“…Do not go.”**

Her shoulders and back bowed, and she lowered her eyes away from his face. She still remembered, far too well, Anders’ warning that he too could die, for the cause of freedom. Inwardly, she cursed herself for ignoring his warnings - he had given her more than enough opportunities to spare herself this heartbreak. Above that, though, a bitterness toward Justice had chipped its way into her heart. “Would you even understand this if I told you?” she asked, her voice sharpening with grief. “Can a spirit even begin to make sense of what it means to lose someone you love forever?” The very thought brought streams of tears from her eyes. “To never be able to hear their voice, or see their face, or look into their eyes…or feel their arms around you again–”

She barely finished her sentence before a pair of arms would, indeed, come around her. For once, Justice felt the desire to muffle her song. Once again, he recalled the affair of Kristoff and Aura, and it only made him hold the other mage closer against his mortal’s chest. **“Alas, Hawke…this is the nature of the divide between spirits and mortals. Voices and faces, feelings of sense - these are mortal things.”** His vessel’s hands searched out their lover’s, cupping hers between theirs. **“The Fade is a place of thoughts, emotions, memories…though these things cannot be grasped in mortal hands, they are no less real. Even if this mortal flesh dies–”**

“Justice.” Hawke interrupted the spirit, her tone turning cold as ice. “If you die…if Anders dies…I will follow,” she declared, glancing up at him as if she would forget his face the minute she let her eyes wander. “If you die, I’ll have _nothing_ left in the world of mortals to live for. I’ll have _no one._ I’ll be _completely_ alone.” A forceful tug pulled her hands free of his, and she placed them at his back. “I’ll miss you both so much I’ll…I’ll join you in the Fade.”

An icy dagger twisted its way into Justice’s mortal heart. “ **Love, _no_ …**” he answered, more of Anders’ voice coming through. “ **Hawke, do not do that…please.** ” It was rare if ever that the spirit pleaded with anyone, let alone a mortal. “ **That is an injustice that this heart cannot bear.** ”

The glow suddenly faded from his eyes, leaving a dazed Anders staring back at his beloved. The feeling in his immediate awareness was a twisted knot of grief and fear that grew to fill him as he remembered her last words, along with those that passed his lips from Justice.

His heart felt like it was made of lead, with the way it sat in his belly. The tears that Justice had been restraining were finally allowed to flow free, and he cupped Hawke’s cheeks with trembling hands. Fighting back a sob, he pressed his lips against hers and held her so close they may as well have become one in being. Even their tears flowed together, soaking their pressed-together cheeks. His heart ached with every beat, even as he held Hawke like she would slip away any moment. At last he broke for a breath, gathering her against his chest. Maker, she deserved so much better.

So much better than he, a haggard rebel apostate with a spirit of the Fade inside him, practically a dead man walking. So much better than someone who was all too ready to throw himself into the jaws of death for the cause of justice and freedom. So much better than someone whose mind was splitting apart at the seams, who woke up so many nights screaming from his nightmares.

Yet, she had chosen _him._ And now, he was the most important person in her world. So much so that losing him would mean losing her will to live. The healer in him wept at the thought of such a pain he could not repair. There were no words left he could say with the power to comfort her. All he could do was press his arms against her back, letting her feel his presence as close as he could offer it.

“I love you, Lys…” he whispered, his shaking breath and pounding heart causing them to rock. “…and I always will. No matter what happens.” His hands made loose trails through her hair, as if wiping the pain and grief out of her through it. “You’ve been with me this long…right by my side, when you could have left so many times.” His fingertips tightened against her back. “I could never ask for more, even from the Maker himself.” Justice still trembled under the surface of his skin, full of concern for Hawke. “…Justice is worried about you too, love. He’s so sorry he can’t do any more.”

Hawke felt so weak she could barely lift her head from Anders’ chest. Not that it was any wonder - she had all but neglected her own care. All she could do now was sigh until she was empty of breath and lean against the healer.

He was more than able to recognize the signs of her need. The sight of her in such a state made Justice writhe - she was being cruel to herself. “Lys, my love…” he requested her attention as he offered to help her stand. “I know you’re scared…but there’s nothing to be scared of, here and now.” Countless times with their roles reversed taught him much about caring for her.

She could only look up at him, rather helplessly, as strength of mind and body had both begun to fail her. “Anders…” she said his name aloud, if only to show that she knew who he was.

A frown of worry crossed his lips and bent his brows, and he felt Justice sinking low into his gut. “Oh, sweetheart…come now, you don’t deserve this.” Sinking back down to his knees near her, he offered her the comfort of his arms once more, and the spirit offered his strength to his vessel’s limbs. “Justice can’t stand–”

“Why should I care what he wants?” Hawke finally asked, her voice dry and bitter. “He can’t help me.”

Anders’ arms suddenly felt limp, dead, and feeble, and his hands tightened into fists as they fell loose by his sides. His breath froze tight in his chest, and his heart began to furiously pound as the Fade cracked through him once again. Justice seized Hawke’s shoulders, shoving her to the floor and pinning her there. **“I will _not_ allow you to enslave yourself to despair!” ** His voice boomed with the same ferocity he used when speaking of the misdeeds of Templars. **“You persist in torturing yourself, when the one who truly deserves to be tortured now lies dead!”** In his righteous furor, he slammed the other mage against the floor with enough force to stun her. **“What am I to do when even you cannot see that you have suffered enough!?”**

That question did more to stun her than the impact of her head against the floor. As he so often was, the spirit was right. In her despair at her powerlessness, she had torn into herself to try to find an answer. Tears began to flow from the corners of her eyes again, and she gazed back up into the blue glow of Justice’s face as she only lay there, passively. Her heart rattled out a requiem of anguish and even more guilt, this time for rousing Justice’s anger and desperation.

 _Weak_ , she wanted to call herself. _Pathetic. A sorry sight._ Her eyes screwed shut against the influx of these thoughts, perhaps in some hope of avoiding the knowledge that Justice could sense them. He did not deserve to have to deal with this poisonous influence from her. And yet, here she was, still spilling it into him. Perhaps this was why she lost her mother - she paid so little heed to anything other than the mage, the spirit and their cause. What was she to them, anyway? Perhaps the feeling wasn’t mutual; she might simply be an accomplice to whatever their plans were.

Justice squared his mortal’s jaw, pressing their teeth together until they began to grind. His hands squeezed her arms enough to leave the skin beneath his fingers tender. “ **Hawke, _stop,_** ” he commanded, his voice becoming more even but still stern. **“This is not justice. This is cruelty and despair.”** At last, he let her up from the floor, but immediately took her into his arms, as before, but with a far more protective posture. “ **There are demons in the Fade that would feed upon your sorrow** ,” he warned, arching his arm over her back. “ **I will _not_ allow it…but you must–** ” A flicker of worry from Anders’ subconscious choked his words, then changed them. “ **… _I_ must ask you take heed. If you were lost, to demons or to your own hand…”** The very idea felt to the spirit like being closed inside an iron maiden. “ **Hawke, _please_ …**”

He was pleading with her again. The tears only came harder, and she buried her face in his coat. Her question was answered, but this answer crushed her heart more than the one she expected. The spirit’s worry for her sake was so great, it drove him to plead - Justice pleaded with no one. Still unable to form words, she hugged him with all the strength she had in her, letting him feel the squeeze of her embrace deep inside his chest. It was no wonder he reacted the way he did. Another apology had begun rising from the pit of her stomach.

A glowing hand cupped rather firmly over her lips before it could be voiced. **“No.** **Do _not_ say it. You are not guilty, Hawke.” ** The same hand slid down to grasp her chin, directing her to look back at him - though he could not see her eyes, he could sense the emotions stirring in her through them. **“This is what you fail to understand. You are punishing yourself, when there is no need.”**

“But I–”

 **“SILENCE!”** the spirit finally demanded, his aura flaring as he seized Hawke’s shoulders once more. **“You are NOT guilty! You do NOT deserve this! ANY of this! Hawke, you are not–”** The ache of Anders’ heart passed through him like a wave, making him the silent one. **“You…are loved.”**

Those words. She had heard them often, but now, they seemed to take hold of her and wrap around her mind, lacing tightly around her heart like a strong thread. Yet, at the same time, they weakened her. It was the sort of fragility that sent her searching for someone stronger to defend her, or even just to hold her together to keep her from breaking completely. Now, she could only surrender to his desire for silence.

A heavy sigh broke from Justice, a sign of Anders’ growing relief, and he at last returned her embrace. **“You must not forget this, Hawke,”** he reminded her firmly, **“You are loved. More than I can put into mortal words.”** As he so often did, he bowed his head over the top of hers, letting his aura weave together to form a sort of armor over them. **“Let that knowledge shield you and carry you, no matter what time may bring.”** With that, he at last let control slip back to Anders.

When the mage’s vision returned, he found himself tightly holding the shaking, feeble form of his beloved. “…He didn’t hurt you, did he, love?” he asked, still having yet to regain his total awareness. “I know he slammed you down,” he mentioned, passing waves of healing magic through her body, just in case.

Quietly, Hawke shook her head, but kept it buried in Anders’ shoulder.

Anders let out a sigh of exhaustion, cradling the sobbing mage in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.” In truth, he knew little of what the future held, but this present moment was as certain as the hold he had on Hawke. “I /promise,/” he whispered into her ear, tenderly kissing her temple as he did so. “Warden’s honor.”

Hawke’s answer was a heavy, baleful sigh that drained her of her last strength and left her laying rather limply against the healer.

It seemed, then, that he would assume his usual role - bringing Hawke back to health. “Come with me to the bedroom, now,” he gently instructed her, standing up and offering a hand for her to take. “Healer’s orders.”

Those were always the words he used to bring her attention to her health state, and to ask that she let him look after her. Even now, though it had been so thoroughly shattered, he still managed to make her heart flutter. At last, she reached for his hand and let him pull her to unsteady feet.

The moment she was stable, Anders tugged her into his arms and kissed the lines of her forehead. “Good job, sweetheart, I’m proud of you.” With this tender praise, he used what strength he had to guide her back up the stairs to the bedchamber, laying her back into the bed and climbing in beside her.

Finally, her tears were subsiding. She rolled onto her side, resting her head against his chest, and her ear against his heart. Slow, haggard sighs spilled out as she listened to that familiar cadence. It carried an entirely new meaning to her now - he was /alive,/ and, as promised, he was here with her, with no intention of leaving.

Anders let out a sigh of his own, of relief, as he rubbed her back, softly tracing the contours of her trembling muscles. Justice could feel the burden those strong shoulders were bearing, in the exhausted din that had wrapped around her sinews. Bony fingers wove magic through her disheveled hair as he felt his spirit shifting and tensing in his chest. “We’re here, my heart. Me and Justice both, like you’ve been here for us for so long.”

Her thoughts were shifting now to his words, but she still only wanted to listen to the soft tones of his voice, just to be reminded he was still speaking. She was barely paying attention to the way her empty stomach had been gnawing at itself, or her throat had become as dry as old parchment.

The healer, however, was far more alert to the needs of others than to his own. “Love,” he addressed her, sitting up against the stack of pillows behind them. “What do you say I get you something to eat? You’ll feel much better afterward…trust me, I know from experience.” He could not help the little smile that cracked at the corners of his lips as his fonder memories surfaced.

Hawke gave a feeble nod. “…Yeah,” she murmured, with barely any tangible feeling. “I don’t really care what you make.” It wasn’t an untrue statement - her taste buds were virtually dead.

Her acceptance of his offer made Anders’ face light up and his heart swell. At last, he was able to do something to ease her suffering. “Alright then, I’ll be right back.” With too much reluctance, he finally pulled away from her enough to stand. “I won’t be able to make it nearly as delicious as what you’ve made for me…but I’ll try my best.”

She let her weight sink back into the pillows, giving him a brief, tired glance. “…Thanks, love.”

Hearing those words finally slip past her lips caused the rebel’s heart to nearly burst. His smile at last broke to reach his eyes, and Justice gave a gentle flicker. “I’ll be right back.” As he approached the door, he turned and blew a kiss in Hawke’s direction, a wisp of healing magic gently following his breath until it settled in the air around her.

The soft tingle of mana brushed against her skin, as if his breath was right there. With a sigh that had long since been carried in her breast, she shut her eyes and attempted to let the sensation buttress her mind against the crushing weight of her own cruel thoughts.

This magic was that of a healer’s, indeed. Already, more pleasant memories had managed to slip in through her emotional cracks. They were of nights spent with him in their bed, her arms encircling him, or her ear against his chest to listen to his heart. They were of the soft glow that he gave off when asleep, a sign that Justice stirred inside. They were of his worried tending to her wounds, and chastising her for her recklessness, even with the knowledge that she would scarcely listen and would soon be back in his clinic. They were of a soft voice whispering sweet things into her ear with that slight crack between words, and that heavy, commanding tone of the spirit.

There were other recollections, though, that were all but inevitable. Of holding his weak, trembling body after yet another breakdown. Of throwing herself between Justice and harming some innocent bystander. Of all but begging him to eat something and get some rest, as she watched him move about his clinic or work on his manifesto like some kind of dwarven machine. Of nights where she would cry herself to sleep, alone, fearing for his safety. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

At last, after a short while, familiar footsteps treaded back up the stairs, and Anders reappeared at the bedroom doorway with a plate. “I know it’s not much…” he spoke of the broth, apple and bread he had prepared. “Maker knows it’ll never be as good as what you make me.”

“…Anders,” Hawke said softly, taking the plate from him with one hand and his hand in the other. “I know you put just as much effort into it as I do. That’s all that matters to me.” Reluctantly releasing his hand, she dipped the bread in the broth and took a bite. Indeed, the flavors were not strong at all, but it mattered little to her now.

Both Anders and Justice at once sighed with relief as they watched Hawke finally gaining nourishment. They shared the hand she released, using it to squeeze her shoulder. “Lys, I love you. Justice…” There was a noticeable gap in his words as he listened for the spirit’s thoughts. “Don’t know if you could really call it _love_ …but you’re more important to him than we can say.”

The feeling of his fingers gently pressing into her shoulder made her almost forget about eating. Her lips wanted to twitch into a smile, but she barely had the emotional strength or mental energy. “That’s what I’m worried about,” she finally confessed, staring into her broth and watching the steam rise into the air. “I feel like…” Just putting it out into words was enough to make tears start to form in her eyes. “…Like I could lose you both any second.”

The healer’s heart threatened to shatter into pieces. He knew from the beginning this would be a risk, but a part of him had always been pushing it somewhere further away in time. As Kirkwall’s conflict built to kindling and cries of injustice grew louder by the day, the reality had come home to make its roost somewhere between the cracks of Anders’ fractured mind. The one thing left that made him feel human seemed closer and closer to being ripped from him, or he would be forced to sacrifice it - sacrifice _her_ \- for their freedom. Even Justice found himself hesitant, but he too had long since known this cost, perhaps better than Anders. Perhaps this was why he had become more relenting over the years when the mage sought respite from his work. Anders swallowed hard at the dryness that had built in his throat. The healer in him yearned to say some words that would ease her pain, but he was too well aware that nothing he could say would change fate.

Injustice. It was all so much injustice. The suffering these two mortals were bearing threatened to crush the spirit between them. Their closeness made the sound of it just as loud as the clamor of wronged souls. If spirits could drown, Justice would be gasping for breath, struggling to surface. Anders’ jaw clenched square, and his fingers suddenly dug into Hawke’s shoulder and neck.

“…Eat, love.” The command was issued with a flat, harsh tone. “…Don’t let it go to waste.” Subtle edges of Justice’s usual thunder traced the outlines of his words.

That tone was enough to make Hawke silently lower her head and do as told. The broth tasted more bitter somehow, the bread more dry. Even the sweetness of the apple soured on her palate.

By the time she was done, Anders was ready with a cup of fresh tea. “…Here. Drink. You need fluids too.” There was no passion in his instructions - he very nearly sounded Tranquil, despite not bearing the Chantry’s brand.

“A-anders…please,” Hawke pleaded, gently taking the cup from his shaking hands. “Don’t…talk like that. You sound…Tra–”

“…Tranquil?” he finished the word, his voice taking on just enough of a harsh edge to show that he still had _some_ emotion left in him. Between his next breaths, his vision blanked white. Justice writhed and twisted around his bones, swelling to fill his form like some ethereal gas. “Rest assured, any Templar who attempts it will be reduced to ashes in his armor.” Sparks of mana flew off, him, floating out into the air as a bolt of Fade light snapped over him. “Or maybe…I’ll just tear off his head and piss down his throat.” His tone, throughout that declaration. hardly changed. “Justice…” His eyes took on their familiar glow once more. “ **WILL** be done.”

Hawke could only stare into her tea as she listened to her lover’s voice. How much longer would it be, she wondered, until there was nothing of him left? How desperate would he become, now, in his pursuit of what they as mages truly deserved? How desperate would _she_ become to stay by his side? Would she, was she willing, to throw herself on the pyre on which he expected to burn?

Heat coursed out from her chest, through her blood, into her fingertips, until her hands grew hot. She barely had the mana to conjure a flame, but her magic was still there to be perceived. At last, she was strong enough to get to her feet, the fire rising into her eyes.

“Anders.” She said his name again, with bitter certainty. “I know. Justice _must_ be done. And I _will_ see to it that it happens.” Already, she could feel her stomach churning against her emotions, souring with the blacker notions that had grown within her. “But if you have to die…don’t expect to go alone.” Before he or Justice could protest, she raised a hand to stop them. “I’ll be right behind you…and however many of those mage-killing sons of bitches I sent before me.”

Anders’ eyes widened until their whole whites were visible. His jaw at last softened its tension, only to fall somewhat slack. His cold, guarded facade could hold him back no more. “Lys, love…” he whispered, his voice barely cracking through his throat as he finally gathered her into his arms. “I’ve thought about my own death so many times it doesn’t faze me anymore…” He was forced to swallow tears as they threatened to form in his eyes, but ultimately gave up and let them flow, and he squeezed the breadth of Hawke’s broad shoulders. “But thinking about you dying, even once…” A louder sob escaped him as he buried his head in her shoulder. “It’s too much…I just can’t…” The last of his front at last fell, its breakage almost audible in the air, and words dissolved into anguished cries that stained Hawke’s robe with tears.

Her instinct to comfort him struggled to claw its way out of their shared despair, and she finally returned his embrace with renewed passion. She said no words, only rubbing the apostate’s back and letting him spill his heartache into her bosom. A thought seeped through to Justice, though, that this was precisely what she was feeling about him and Anders.

His sobbing suddenly ceased as the spirit once again took control, firming his hold on her. **“…I understand.”** His voice was low and baleful, and he touched his forehead to hers so his eyes could stare blindly into her own. **“And you mean this…you are willing to give your life to this cause?”**

She gave a wordless nod.

Justice felt his host’s throat muscles tighten in a gulp around this answer **. “…I see. If this is the justice you would have…I cannot deny it to you.”** Those glowing eyes closed in a slow, heavy blink. **“But know that it causes me great pain.”** With those words, he reached out for the sound of her magic and interlaced his fingers with hers. **“You are…a rarity among mortals. There are few who truly would make such sacrifices in the name of something greater.”** Long, thin, glowing fingers squeezed against her hand, their tips brushing over her knuckles, and he lifted it to touch his lips to them. **“I am honored, Hawke…even if the thought makes my vessel’s heart ache with every beat. And you…”** As they so often did, his vessel’s arms took Hawke into a full-body embrace as his lips pressed against hers, playing a strong counterpoint to her melancholy requiem. He pulled away just enough to let his lips move once more. **“…are loved.”**

Hawke clung to Justice as she had done before, letting her eyes shut the instant she felt his Fade-wrapped lips touch hers. One of her hands found its way to his unkempt, sweat-drenched hair, gently grasping a bit of it in the curl of her fingers. When he returned her breath to her, she touched her lips to his cheek, just under an eyelid, and left a tender note of affection there.

Justice found his vessel’s cheeks growing hot - it was a feeling he had not experienced in what felt like too long. These slivers of sweetness, soft melodies between the din, were growing smaller, fewer, and so much longer between. Any time his mortals _weren’t_ suffering, it was more than worth it to let them enjoy what they could, for as long as they could. He clasped his hand into the other mage’s, drawing the sensation of her magic and body heat in through his palms and fingertips. Slowly, he leaned her back into the bed and kissed her another time, deeper still, his aura flaring out in pulses that matched with his heartbeat. A weighty, almost purring sigh came from deep inside his chest as he spaced his lips from hers. **“As I believe I was saying before…even if these vessels are gone from the mortal world, we will leave echoes that will carry throughout the Fade for all time.”**

Where before, these words crushed Hawke, they now seemed to offer her comfort. She had always listened closely when Justice spoke of the Fade, seeking to understand more of him and his home. If the end result of this had to be their own end, perhaps she would be satisfied if they were still able to stay connected even then.

The spirit at last seized this fulfillment of his purpose, loosening his hold on Hawke just a bit, but still keeping her close. With that, he was able to let go of Anders’ senses.

The mage found himself coming to with Hawke still in his arms. His cheeks were still wet with tears, but a warmth had been added to one. His heart began a gentle flitting as the memory of the kiss she left there returned to him. “Ah, I’m back,” he sighed aloud, gently touching his forehead to hers and letting his thoughts churn up some translation into words.

“…Love,” he finally addressed her, tucking a hand in against her jaw. “I think it would be for the best if we just focused on enjoying what we have together right now and not think about what might happen later.” Before she could argue, he fluttered an eyelid against her cheek. “You know…just us–” His words were broken off by a light chuckle. “And you and me.” Those familiar wrinkles returned to the corners of his eyes, after having been gone for so long. “We’re here together, lying in each other’s arms, in this huge, comfortable bed…just like always.” His hand began a slow, meandering search for hers, wrapping around it and squeezing. “No clinic…no Chantry…no Templars…nothing that could ever get between us.”

Hawke was all too happy to bury her face in the mage’s chest, a little smile of her own forming. Anders had not lost a sliver of his talent for healing. “…That sounds perfect,” she answered, letting her mind wander to more pleasant memories. “Maker, how many times have I been the one to remind you of that?” For once, she returned the squeeze to his hand, with all the tightness she could muster.

He pressed his cheek to hers, sharing the warmth of their skin. “More than enough.” Breaking his arms loose from between them, he sat up for a moment to rid himself of his coat and belts. Now bare from the waist down, he let himself gently flop back down next to her and laid an arm over her waist. “You’ve been so good to me, Lys.” Hearing his own words conjured up another thought. “…You know, something just occurred to me. You mentioned that I sounded…” Even now, the word tasted foul on his tongue. “Tranquil.”

The very thought of him bearing that sunburst brand made her blood chill. “Ugh, just thinking about it…”

“…I didn’t sound Tranquil. At all.” An edge of bitterness tinged his tongue, as if offended by the very notion.

“B-but,” Hawke protested, confused, “You sounded so…dead.”

Anders gently shook his head, squeezing Hawke tight with both arms. “…I still called you ‘love,’” he observed. “I would’ve never done that if I had actually been Tranquil. My whole capacity to love would be–” Justice seemed to seize his words before they could flow any further - he would not even entertain the idea, and he made it known in the back of Anders’ mind. Anders, though, felt it needed to be said. “…gone. There wouldn’t even be a 'me’ _left._ ” To dispel such an idea from their minds, he placed a tender kiss in the crook of Hawke’s neck. “But like I said…let’s try not to dwell on that. What matters is that I’m _not_ Tranquil. I’m _here_ , and I love you.”

Reminding her of his words summoned yet more tears to her eyes, such that she had to roll back over to face the apostate and pull him close, burying her face in his chest and sighing his name out in a breath. As she tilted her head to the side to take in another, it was caught in her chest by the drumming of his heart. She seized and held on to every single beat, as if in the knowledge she may one day never hear them again. She also knew now, though, that that day would not be today. If she could help it, that day would have to come through her first. He was all that remained, and she would not let him be taken away from her, even by the Maker himself.


End file.
